Thursday, May 10, 2012
A life in linear begs for chaos. Discounting those who find fascination in symmetry, it is the enthrallment of a chaos that rests deep within like a jack in the box, springing an inevitable surprise in the argument with the self. Some are bound by their selves to follow the pattern and live the lines while others roll the dice. There’s a maniac in all of us that waits and smiles and wants things to go haywire, just to know how things pan out.
Open, twisted, up-to-no-good-shoe-laces that draw out the thinker in us or the wild winding roads promising you a ticket to nowhere. Nowhere, a destination we hope exists.
Chaos calls you out and the allure of being lost is a spell in itself. Lost not just in the way, but in your own self and the surroundings. You don’t want to know where you are. The cacophony becomes a symphony, the bustle of the streets almost an orchestra and the noises in your head start singing that tune you love. How amazing it is to be lost and not found.
To be lost and not found. To camouflage and merge. To explode and go unnoticed. Chaos makes you special. The pieces of a jigsaw seem more appealing when not arranged in order. In your head you’ve imagined countless other ways in which it can be arranged. Why make sense when you can paint a beautiful chaos?
Do not reason with chaos. Not that it wants or needs a reason, especially when you’re in it. Move aimlessly, move awkward, be awkward, be you, be someone else. Decolonize your senses and make home in the bedlam. Romance the mayhem and break the sermons into concoctions that only you know of.
Do you know of that feeling when you fall into rapid waters, almost drowning yourself and then emerging from it? Panic is not it. Relief is not it. Rediscover. That’s it.